With A Sinful Eye
by Qindarka
Summary: Love and lust aren't the same. John knows the distinction, but he's too involved in both to care. SLASH st.john/pietro--pyro/quicksilver


**HEY FOLKS. **

**I haven't written for Evo since I transitioned over to South Park. And then my writing ability died for a year… but then I wrote this little ditty a couple hours ago. Totally made this shit up, dude. :3 **

**Pietro/John…has died amongst you people. BRING IT BACK, DAMN YOU. It kills me to come here and see…NOTHING. **

**This isn't all that special. But… I miss when Pytro was prominent. So. Yeah. Pg-13 just…because I'm not sure. This is honestly limey, to say the most… DON'T HURT ME.**

**Disclaimer: Dun own, though if I did…THERE WOULD BE MORE PYRO/PIETRO STORIES IN THE EVO CATEGORY**

-

As hard as it was to believe, Pietro Maximoff hadn't had sex in three months.

Normally, a handsome, confident, and _manipulative _boy such as himself would have no problem picking up and having his way with some lonely girl at whatever moment suited him best. Pietro himself was, after all, the epitome of beauty, an object of most everyone's lust and affection, cocky and agile with a smirk that could stop a train. And the fact that he knew how wanted he was (and basked heartily in the feeling) made him all the more alluring; it gave him a "holier-than-thou" air, thus turning him into some kind of untouchable god.

And desperate girls were, after all, ripe for picking in a city like Bayville, which had affectionately adopted the nickname of "The New York City Reject". Girls dumped by boyfriends, girls wishing they weren't virgins, girls coming out of rough marriages...they were swarming: desolate, rejected, sleazy girls, old and young alike, with all their eyes on a boy like Pietro. Even with his super speed, with one quick sweep through the city, he could draw drool and trigger libidos left and right.

So, with a boy like Pietro and a city like Bayville, one can barely comprehend his current situation. Pietro hadn't had the slightest run-through, jerk, or feel in three months, all of which was spent residing _in _Bayville... the figures didn't add up at all.

It was his father, all his father's fault that he was in such a pathetic state. If they ever crossed paths again, and if Magneto had somehow lost both his powers and ability to be incredibly intimidating, Pietro vowed passionate, violent revenge.

Months earlier, Erik Lensherr had plucked his son from leader position of the Brotherhood Boarding House, only to drag him and his sister to live in his base instead. The decision had not been fruitless. The resilience of angry, oppressive humans was becoming more horrifying than originally anticipated. People were getting angrier by the minute with the "mutant menace" living amongst them, and discrimination was becoming ever worse. It had gone from "No Mutants Allowed" signs on buildings, to unexpected violence. A mutant boy from Xavier's institute had been brutally attacked by a gang from Bayville's high school, and since the incident, Xavier began restricting his students from attending school, teaching them instead in his own mansion until the problem was properly dealt with.

Long had Magneto been planning rebellion, building power and an army. But for the time being, he could not simply watch over his children and their friends and just _pray _no one decided to hurt them, he was much too busy _planning _to occupy his time with that. The boarding house was too much of a sitting duck so, following Xavier in suit, he pulled his son out of school for the second or third time (it's hard to keep track) and moved him out of the brotherhood's house, forbidding Pietro from the outside world until his papa got adequate revenge on the humans.

No contact with outside world equals no contact with horny teenagers and lonely middle-aged housewives. While a typical, rebellious, Pietro-like answer to this problem would be sneaking out... he had a feeling that his naturally terrifying father had a way of knowing _everything_ that went on in his base, what went in _and_ out. At this point, he didn't know whether he was more afraid of his dick wilting from lack of usage or his father's wrath, but to be on the safe side he reluctantly decided to withdraw like the good obedient son he wasn't.

And it was killing him. Locked up for three months in a dismal metal building with no company save four other men and his sister, he was extremely cold and lonely and absolutely _horny_ to say the least. The poor confused boy couldn't even bring himself to look at porn. Such a heinous and disgraceful act was below him.

He felt like a smoker who'd just gone cold turkey.

He was so depressed that a typical day for him was spent 90 percent of the time in bed, 10 percent in the bathroom, and rarely, yet occasionally, he actually left his room. But that was only to stock up on food. At the present, he was occupying a fraction of the 90. Late at night, lying in his stiff, thin little bed and staring at the bare grey ceiling above him, counting the seconds that went by, he couldn't believe it'd been _that_ long already.

Sighing, he rolled onto his left side, then moments later onto his right. He repeated this tossing and turning ritual, and being the speedster that he was, the action was done so quickly that within seconds he found himself tangled in sheets and lying face down on the floor.

Depression, now mixed with his newfound aggression and irritation, broke him. "I CAN'T TAKE THIS ANYMORE!" His fist came down so heavily upon the flimsy carpeting of his room that he truly believed that if he were anyone like Freddy he would have broken through to the room below him.

"This... had gone on... long enough..." he hissed through clenched teeth, quickly freeing himself from the bed sheet and standing to his full height, shoulders back, tall and proud. He stood the Pietro Maximoff way, with dignity he hoped he hadn't lost in the past nine or so weeks. Crossing the room to the door at the speed of light, he took hold of the knob and wrenched his door open.

With dedication and determination he surely inherited from his father, the young mutant swept through the corridor outside his door and down a metal staircase not far from his room.

He was on a mission to get his sex drive back, in any way possible.

-

John had to admit... he'd been watching that Maximoff boy. Of course, he could only survey him in the seldom instance he somehow made it outside his room, but when Pietro did grace the rest of the base with his presence, John saw that he had been losing his grip. He'd had to admit to seeing the drooped shoulders, the drag in his step, the loss of thrill in his periwinkle eyes, and his overall sullen demeanor. Even the winged bangs framing his face seemed to wilt in sadness.

John had noticed when the kid had first arrived that he was a born leader. He'd been brash, bratty, full of energy that begged for ventilation. He'd strut about the base in his designer outfits and his expensive haircut, reeking of primping products and giving orders to the unwilling Acolytes. The first few weeks were an absolute nightmare for Remy and Victor, who were already not keen to the idea of being given orders, let alone by the boss's selfish kid. Piotr was apathetic, but then again he always was.

Pyro, however, loved it. While he was well aware of the mere two year age difference, he felt like he was babysitting, or something. Pietro amused him. (Rem and Vic had always regarded Johnny as the wacko of their team; he could find amusement in toothpaste.)

And not only that, but as long as he'd known the kid, the Aussie felt he had never been so strongly attracted to anyone in his entire existence. The youngest of the Acolytes, he, like the entire female population of their town, was not immune to Pietro's mysterious charm. But what set John apart was that he was not only completely in lust with the boy... but he was absolutely smitten. He knew that boy would never settle down for one person; he was born independent and meant to explore life. If anything, the most they could ever possibly amount to was a quick fuck. An yet...it was one of thousands of reasons why the slender teen was...so addicting, why he kept calling to him. But the exact reason for John's affection always eluded him.

There was just... something about somehow taming the wild speed demon that lit the firebug's flame.

But like previously mentioned, Pyro had been watching the boy, and he'd noticed a change for the worse. The cooped-up-ness of the base was overwhelming, and lasting too long. Pietro was clearly a swinger, and lack of fresh air was going to his head. Despite it having no effect on John's affection, the change in Pietro's personality from dominating brat to depressed whiney teenager, minus the whining, was something very sad yet very expected.

With the likeness of some sex gypsy, John, early on, was already predicted what would result from this isolation. Blocking himself from the rest of the world, desperation, depression, lack of control... it was all he could expect from Pietro at this point.

What he didn't foresee, however, was that late that evening, the person responsible for knocking down his door would be the one thing he'd wanted for so long.

"Allerdyce!"

Pyro'd whipped around in surprise, the small flame of his pocket lighter still alight, a mess of burning playing cards smoldering behind him. He'd been happily burning Gambit's favorite deck of cards, less for a plausible reason and more to annoy him, when Pietro barged into his cramp room. The interruption was annoying but the minute he caught sight of the intruder, a grin spread across his face and he stood to greet him.

"Oy, hey there, mate! Wotchu doin' up so la--mmph!" The blond boy hadn't even seen Pietro move before the young mutant was on him. He felt lips against his own, around them, sucking and breathing as if Pietro sought to suck forth his life. There was no time for breaks for breath; the white haired teen inhaled heavily through his nose, his kiss powerful and ravenous, hungry...everything it should have been and more.

John's momentary shock was almost instantly gone, and he felt his eyes roll upward in an almost delirious passion. The space behind his back was quickly filled as he soon felt the wall he was harshly shoved up against, the material of his tank top ridding upward with Pietro's quick, thin..._perfect _fingers, each digit bold with experience.

It was... so _right… _ _so right… and yet SO WRONG RED ALERT JOHN ALLERDYCE _

Brain finally piecing together what just took place, John grabbed Pietro around the shoulders and pried him from him. "What the BLOODY HELL d'you think you're doing there, mate!" The forceful shove of protest barely fazed Pietro. Undeterred, he ignored John's skeptical question and leapt forward once more, ready to attack his Australian target in a barrage of pent up emotion. Unfortunately for the lithe teen, strong arms that held him back were in the way of said target. He was close to breaking them, had they not been connected to the very thing he was after.

Pietro threw a quick, disgusted glance at the extended limbs. "And what d'YOU think YOU'RE doing, _mate_?"

What WAS John doing? He had willing, utterly aroused Pietro in his room, and he was holding him back? It was times like these that he wished he was never born with conscience. He shook the tempting thoughts away. "Get your head together, you don't know what you're doing..."

Pietro narrowed his eyes. "I know _exactly_ what I'm doing, Allerdyce... YOU'RE the only one without sense in this room." He smirked sardonically at the look that suddenly overtook John's once flushed face. He craned his neck, just barely bringing the two of them to eye level as he pressed his nose to John's, gazing deeply into a pair of surprised bright blue eyes with his own cold yet lustful half-lidded pair. His hips locked into place like puzzle pieces as they shoved against Pyro's. John gasped and his arms buckled against the sensation as he felt Pietro melt into him.

"Don't think I haven't seen you watching me, darling. I can smell Maximoff-induced arousal a mile away... you've wanted me since day one-" he ground his crotch against John's, his voice dropping to a sultry whisper, "-haven't you?"

Face on fire, it took all of John's will not to shove the youth onto his bed and take him right there. Despite it all, Pyro couldn't help but smile. "You know exactly how to work up a show, don't you, love?" The smile faded and he became suddenly serious. "You really are quite the pro..."

Pietro's smirk widened, praise fanning the flames of his already hefty sized ego. "You got that right, princess." His hands found their place on the hem of John's tank top once more, and in his weakened state the blonde could not protest as Pietro peeled the shirt away with ease. The speed demon bent, level with the soft skin of John's navel and he planted soft and teasing kisses, his tongue dancing its way ever closer to the top button of John's shorts. The moan from above was almost too promising.

Pietro suddenly ended his banter, standing upright and now taking the role of objective lover as his body disconnected from John's. A quick whimper and the feel of John's arms tightening around his waist brought him back with quite the smug grin. "So... does this mean you'll cooperate this time?" he whispered in John's ear, running his nimble tongue over the shell of the ear.

A soft pleading of his name was his yes enough and with blinding speed, the two were upon the bed, the light shut in the process.

Pyro was fully aware that Pietro wasn't doing this because he wanted John... because he loved him or wanted to be with him or ...saw the things in John that John saw in him. He was aware that the next morning he would wake up alone, Pietro satisfied and him not, never able to experience this again for the rest of his life. Pietro was just desperate and Pyro was the closest thing, both in age and proximity. There were voices in the blonde's head protesting to these advances of Pietro, calling them wrong and fake and sleazy and against everything John believed him. Every part of him told him this was wrong... and each and every one were overpowered by five sweet words: Pietro wanted to fuck him.

His dick was definitely in control right now. And even if he could never have Pietro Maximoff again, he would make him his tonight.

"John..." Pietro cried softly, head close to his ear once more, his tough exterior shedding as his pants tightened, hands fingering the area around the zipper of his blonde's shorts, which were amazingly still on. "John..._please_..."

And without a second thought, the little firebug rolled over and did.

Pietro was gone the minute he awoke the next morning.


End file.
